


Christian’s Song

by tposing_sniper



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Catholic Imagery, Freak Fortress, Implied Relationships, Madness, Minor Character Death, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, You got blood on my suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tposing_sniper/pseuds/tposing_sniper
Summary: Christian Brutal Sniper’s madness is a song whose notes are spelled out in red splatter. The Spy has no desire to listen, but there's blood on his suit and the music in his ears.A short fic featuring CBS and the RED Spy that follows him around.
Kudos: 7





	Christian’s Song

_He’s making that awful face again. Here it comes-_ warm liquid began to soak through his suit. His very _expensive_ suit.

Decloaking with a sigh, Spy voiced his complaint _yet again_. “You got blood on my suit.”

On all fours, hacking at the already very-mutilated soldier in front of him, Christian Brutal Sniper looked up at him with a gore-splattered smile. “Looks great on ya.”

“It does _not_.” Spy said with disdain, dabbing at an offending spot with a handkerchief. _Out, damn spot! My good red suit! Now a little redder..._

“Meh.” CBS had returned to separating the soldier into as many pieces as possible. “Maybe you shouldn’t get so close then.”

“Maybe you should be-“ Spy cut himself off. There was no point. CBS’s bloodlust knew no control.

“Maybe I should be _what?_ ” CBS’s voice was low and dangerous. He rose, black hair slick with drying blood. Crimson dripped down as he stood up, joining the already very red ground with a splatter. He took a step towards Spy, and Spy had to stop himself from flinching backwards.

_He gets testy sometimes, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Right? I saved him. More than once. He wouldn’t…_

Taking a gulp of air (trying not to think that it was his last one) Spy hoarsely answered. “Well...maybe if you were _neater_ when you…” He gestured to the mangled pile of flesh and various knives. 

CBS let out a snort. “Not gonna happen, mate.” He said flatly. “Like I already said, maybe _you_ should stay further back.”

“How am I supposed to save your crazy ass if I stay back?” Spy muttered. 

“Crazy? Is _that_ what you think I am?” CBS’s voice rose with a snarl as he glared at the RED Spy.

“Mon amie...Let’s not do this here. I’m sorry I said anything.” Spy turned and started to head for CBS’s red van. If it started out red, Spy didn’t know. He doubted it.

“Don’t fucking move another step.” CBS had his blade out. Well, one of them.

His voice froze Spy in his tracks. The RED spy turned back around cautiously, thumbing his cloaking watch. It would not be the first time he would have to cloak and hide from CBS. He always returned later, when CBS was sleeping, and they didn’t talk about it. There was so much they didn’t talk about. So much unspoken. _And it should stay that way._

“Christian. We don’t need to discuss this. Let’s _go_.”

His blade caught the light as it swung idly in his rough hands. “Oh, I think we do. Spy, you think I’m _crazy,_ doncha? That I’m just some wild bushman, killing everyone in sight, is _that_ it?”

_Is that a trick question?_ “Mon amie...how would _you_ describe it? What you do?”

“Easy.” Christian Brutal Sniper brought his knife to his lips, and kissed it. He spoke in a voice softer than Spy had ever heard him speak before. “ _Worship_.”

“Worship?” Spy echoed in confusion.

“Exactly.” CBS nodded. 

“But...who are you worshiping?”

“My knives. They rend flesh so beautifully. It’s how they sing. You don’t hear their song?”

“Uhm…” Spy gaped, unsure of what to say. Christian continued.

“I also worship my victims. Through their death, I pay tribute to their lives. I bask in their blood, caress each and every part. I honour them with my blades. It is how I... _love_ them, Spy.” Christian’s eyes were closed, and he held his knife to his face in reverence. “It is how I sing to them. They weep when they hear my song.”

_They weep because you are tearing them apart. With a chainsaw._ Spy couldn’t believe it. CBS was nuts. He’d always had a bit of a hunch, but he tried to assume that CBS was sane, and was just an extreme psychopath. No, the Sniper actual beloved he was doing good. That his acts were one of _love._

“That’s how I chose my name, you know? Christian. I believe in God...and I send them to Him in glory. Free them from this world, to the next. It’s my duty...my _brutal_ , bloody duty. Spy, don’t you _see_? My song is but an echo of the _angels._ ”

_I can see that you are insane. And dangerous._ Spy nodded. “I see. I understand. I will try to complain less.”

“Thanks mate.” CBS’s voice had gone back to its normal roughness. “Doncha dare try to get in th’ way of my worship.”

“Message well received.” Spy bite back a shudder. He would have left the crazy sniper years ago...only, morbid fascination held him. And continued to do so. For as much as he wanted to leave, a greater part of him told him to stay. To get splattered in blood again. To continue to be a part of the cycle of death. To watch him kill and kill again, new people in new ways. _Perhaps I'm just as sick as him. I do enjoy his ‘worship’...Perhaps there is some beauty in how he kills after all._

Rubbing the specks of blood out of his eyes, Spy bite back a curse. _No. No beauty whatsoever. Just a crazy knife-wielding bushman screaming as he cuts apart a just as screaming victim. Mon Dieu, this stings. Gross._

CBS let out another mangy howl of satisfaction as blood spurted out from the scout’s neck. Spy counted at least seven knives of various sizes and shapes sticking out of the puny boy. _Julius Caesar who? Damn kid looks like a knife block for fucks sake._

A chunk of Scout flew out and landed at Spy’s feet. He groaned and rolled his eyes in disgust. As he did, a faint glimmer caught his eye. _Blu Spy. Rapidly approaching Christian. Merde._

“Christian, _duck_ !” Spy’s knife was leaving his hand before he finished the syllables. Thankfully CBS caught his drift, and indeed ducked. Spy’s butterfly flew just over his head, and directly into the uncloaking BLU Spy behind him. _Thunk_. The spy crumpled backwards. 

CBS swung his blade around a few times in the space above the fallen body. “Doesn’t look like he had a dead ringer.” 

“I suppose not.” Spy strood forward to collect his knife. CBS held out a hand and stopped him. 

“Wait. Listen. Do you hear it?”

“What-“ a faint gurgling caught his ears. The spy was not dead after all. Blood bubbled out of his quivering lips as he slowly suffered.

“Ah. Sloppy of me. Here, I’ll finish-“

CBS’s hands were holding his face. Bloody fingers left warm streaks as he whispered. “Shh. Listen. Do you hear the song?”

Maybe it was the intensity of Christian’s eyes. Maybe it was the unnatural warmth of his hands caressing his already blooded jaw, or the stench of blood so strong Spy felt he might pass out. But...as he stared into those deep red eyes, as the BLU Spy’s eyes grew cold and grey, Spy heard it. As life turned to death, and warm blood cooled, he heard it.

And it was _glorious_.

It was the sound of a feeble heart pushing its last load. The sound of the spark of a brain going out, and creating no replacement. It was the sound of blood draining, pooling, kissing Spy’s shoes. It was the sound of shattered bones drying, the glossy surfaces stained the colour of life. 

_Red. Blood._

The song was the absence of life. It was _his_ life, ending another. It was the sound of power. The sound of tragedy. The song sang of lament, how time spent in this world is infinitely short. The song was also of joy, of freedom. The freedom to kill. The freedom to _die_. How lucky we are, that we do not live forever. Death had never been so familiar. Not welcome, not unwelcome. Simply there. For the first time, Spy felt the acceptance of his own mortality.

And then those deep red eyes blinked, and the song was gone.

Spy was being touched by a very dirty man, standing over a corpse, and his suit had never been in worse shape.

He broke away from CBS’s grasp, and walked away stiffly, avoiding eye contact. When he finally did meet his eyes again, it was much later. They had settled in the van for the night. 

CBS’s eyes had faded to brown again. His bloodlust was long over. He grinned at Spy from across the van, pleased that the spook had finally looked at him.

“Did you hear it? You’ve been pretty quiet, mate.”

“...Oui. I did.”

CBS let out a satisfied sigh, shifting in his bunk to better face Spy. “Lovely, ain’t it?”

“I...don’t remember.” And that was the truth. It was so short, not even a fraction of a second. Yet it was _there_.

“That’s ok.” Christian Brutal Sniper’s eyes glowed red slightly as his grin spread. “I’ll make sure you’ll be able to hear it again. Soon you won’t be able to ever forget it.

And we can sing the song together.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one night on a whim at one am. The next night I also stayed up until one am watching CBS videos to make sure everything was correct. It is now one am AGAIN, and I have just finished editing this. It’s been a fun couple of nights. Merry Christmas <3
> 
> Also the Spy is simply the RED Spy that follows CBS around in earlier videos, and not Gentlespy. After great deliberation and watching over 65 CBS videos in one night I decided to not do Gentlespy because he enjoys killing too much to work in this particular role. 
> 
> Thank you for reading ^_^ I don’t think this fic makes much sense if you think about it too much, so don’t :D


End file.
